NASRIN DAS . ❝ be our fire and our sweetness .
She hadn’t noticed it at first, just a sprig of green suspended on a piece of twine from a wooden ceiling beam. It wasn’t until his proximity to her made her throat thick and her lungs heavy that she became more aware of their surroundings. It was mistletoe, an age old custom that brought a smile to her face, something warm and familiar slowly proliferating through her. Nasrin stepped closer to her love, fingertips gentle on his cheek as she leaned into him, not tall enough to claim his lips without him leaning down for her. She waited for his attention, patient, pressing lips soft against his jaw. She held herself against him, her own cheek against his dark stubble, another kiss chaste against the side of his mouth before her lips hovered over his own, parted, anticipatory.
He felt so good against her that she wanted to pull him around herself somehow, to wrap herself up in him and breathe him in. Something about the way he smelled made her ache with a fierceness that should have scared her, but didn’t. She claimed his mouth slowly, gently, tongue a plaintive appeal against his lip.
he can feel her breath against his lips , hot and heady . he was never much one for tradition , especially not of that celebrating a past plagued with pains . but there were some things that he enjoyed , some things that humanity had created . in some ways it was blasphemous , and he took pleasure in participating . the mistletoe wasn’t his idea , though ----------------------- somebody else had put it there . he doesn’t waste time before returning the kiss with a smirk plastered upon his lips and a laugh threatening to spill from his lungs .
no breath is dissipated on speech . instead , he leans a little further ( a little closer ) and a single hand finds its way to rest against the small of her back . there’s nothing needy about his actions , nothing desperate in his movements , but there lies a thrill . AS THOUGH CLAIMING WITH BOTH HANDS SOMETHING HE KNOWS HE SHOULDN’T . confidence radiates , even as he meets her tongue with his own . he doesn’t pull away , not yet , not when he’s having so much fun .
